


Diplomacy in Waltz Tempo

by Rachael Sabotini (wickedwords)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alien Culture, M/M, Mission Fic, Off-World, Surfacing Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-22
Updated: 2006-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:51:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwords/pseuds/Rachael%20Sabotini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Get the men inside," Pentau ground out. "This is no place for them."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diplomacy in Waltz Tempo

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by elynross, Montana Harper and sherrold. Thank you all so much! This story was originally written for the Surfacing zine published by Duet Press in 2007

This time when John stepped through the stargate it was like stepping into his own past. Warm air, baked earth, and dried-up grasses added up to "desert" in John's mind, while the heavy sensation of a storm waiting to break made him think of late fall. Veiled figures in sun-bleached robes stood in the shade of awnings attached to adobe buildings where market vendors peddled their wares.  
  
Everywhere they saw armed guards on watch, tense and wary soldiers, their hands never far from their half-sized, musket-like weapons; although the uniform of loose tunic and pants they wore made the figures fairly shapeless, John identified at least a few women among their ranks, something that hadn't been clear on the MALP display. He tugged Rodney's arm, pushing him back slightly as John moved forward, Teyla moving smoothly into position beside him. Ronon took their six, just in case.  
  
One of the guards strolled over to a large brass gong by the DHD and struck it sharply, the noise reverberating through the square. No one else moved toward them, or did much of anything at all, obviously waiting for some kind of response.  
  
"Greetings, travelers!"  
  
An older woman with long graying hair in a braid down her back emerged from one of the dun-colored buildings surrounding the square, the ankle-length folds of her caftan swirling around her sandaled feet as she walked. She bowed three times as she approached, a younger version of herself following two paces behind and carrying a pile of cloth in her hands. The woman looked directly at Teyla, smiling and relaxed, while the guards stepped in behind her in obvious sentry mode. "What brings you to Helan?"  
  
"We are simple explorers," Teyla said calmly. "We seek allies against the Wraith."  
  
"Our trading partners are our strongest allies," the woman said solemnly. "I am Pentau, keeper of the weight house."  
  
"Nice to meet you," John said. "What is the weight house?" He could see the guards register surprise at his question, shifting and glancing nervously at each other.  
  
"It is where we weigh and measure all trade items, certifying the sale and collecting the town's share of the proceeds."  
  
"You're the tax collector," Rodney blurted. "Huh. I'm just surprised we haven't encountered any before," he muttered mostly to himself, and took out his scanner. The guards tensed, then relaxed when nothing immediately dangerous happened.  
  
Pentau's brow furrowed, but she didn't look at Rodney at all. "If you will come with me," she said, "I will log in your items and assess their worth." She gestured at the MALP. "I have never seen this sort of vehicle before; will you be trading that as well?"  
  
"It is for scientific inquiry only. We have brought nothing with us to trade," Teyla said. "This is an exploratory mission."  
  
"Ah!" Pentau brightened. "Then I will show you what we have to trade, instead." She gestured at the road behind her, where a large domed building could be seen in the distance. "The weight house is much cooler than the marketplace," she said conspiratorially to Teyla. "You and your husbands may refresh yourselves there." Her mouth quirked up in a half smile. "I have been working in the square all morning, and would enjoy the respite myself."  
  
John glanced around the square while Rodney insisted, "We're not her husbands." Teyla responded back with a fierce raise of her eyebrows and a glare. The two of them engaged in their facial ju-jitsu as a cold knife of recognition struck John's belly: all of the veiled figures were men, and all of the guards, not just a few, women; and the women paid no more attention to them than they did the paving stones under their feet.  
  
For a moment he was surrounded by whispers of Afghanistan, and John had to move to shove the memories away. He thumped Rodney on the shoulder to get his attention, and jerked his head at the people gathered around the square staring at them.  
  
Rodney looked where John had nodded, rubbing his arm. "Ow."  
  
"My people have another name for it, but yes, they are my husbands. The trip to the weight house sounds…acceptable," Teyla said, and John could see the bead of sweat drip down the side of her face, the prickle of sweat at the back of his neck matching hers. It had been a lot cooler when the MALP was sent through, before they went through the gate.  
  
"If you don't mind…" Pentau clapped her hands, and the younger woman stepped forward, holding out her bundle of cloth, eyes carefully averted from Rodney, John, and Ronon. Pentau picked up three different colored cloths and handed them to Teyla. "Would you ask your husbands to wear veils, while we travel through town? You have arrived in the middle of the Yanglin festival, and there are many here from the provinces. They are not used to unveiled men wandering around, and we have already had some… incidents."  
  
"Of course," Teyla said calmly. She took the veils from Pentau and handed one to each of the men, naming them as she did. "This is Ronon Dex. Dr. Rodney McKay. Colonel John Sheppard."  
  
John delicately took the green cloth in his hand, trying not to show how uncomfortable it made him. He'd had to wear traditional dress on other planets, from loincloths to lederhosen, skirts to sarongs. He wasn't sure why a plain square of cloth creeped him out. He ran it through his hand before putting it on, the soft fabric sliding sensuously against his palm.  
  
Okay, maybe "creepy" wasn't exactly the right word here. He glanced at the others as he carefully drew on his veil, the cloth caressing his cheeks.  
  
"You have got to be kidding me," Rodney grumbled, staring at the dark blue cloth he was given. At a sharp look from Teyla, he draped it haphazardly over his head, and Pentau stepped forward to get it to lie straight.  
  
Ronon shrugged. "Feels nice." He pulled his on, and John tried not to smile at the way it didn't quite cover his hair. He knelt on the ground so that Pentau's assistant could fuss with it.  
  
The image hit him viscerally as memory fused with fantasy, thoughts of kneeling in the dirt as a veil was torn from his face. It did something to him, made his whole body react with heat and need. John stiffened as he tried to control his breathing, more disturbing memories from Afghanistan surfacing, adding to his confusion. He picked and struggled through them as he touched the veil, adjusting it minutely just to have something to do with his hands--and to hide their shaking. He really hadn't expected to be… kinda freaked by it.  
  
Pentau looked at him with concern. "The heat can be overwhelming when visitors first arrive," she said gently. She nodded at Teyla. "It is best if we get your husbands to someplace cooler, so they may rest. Please, follow me." Giving a sharp nod, she headed down the main road toward the weight house, John and his team following behind.  
  
While it was true that the heat pressed against them in heavy layers, it was the way that the veil folded itself over John's face that made him feel… itchy. Strangely on display. He'd be okay for a step or two, but if he moved too fast the cloth fluttered against his skin--cheek, neck, forehead, always different--scratching at him, reminding him it was there. People stared at him as he walked, not with the simple suspicion of new people that he was used to, or the "this trade could be profitable" look, but with something that made John think of the first motorcycle he'd ever bought. The veil marked him as unthreatening to the guards and someone else's property to the rest of the crowd, and for some reason that thought made him shiver in the heat.  
  
Rodney glanced at him, and their gazes caught and held a moment, before Rodney turned back to his equipment. That one brief glance was all it took for the sensation of the veil brushing his skin to become a visceral sense-memory of Rodney naked, stroking him; John shifted his weapon slightly, covering himself, feeling exposed and almost uncomfortably hard.  
  
~~~  
  
The weight house was a lot cooler than he had expected for a society without air conditioning, and as he wandered through it, John relaxed. Pentau obviously loved the place, showing off stacks of cloth, grain, oil, and beer as they walked, each item totaled and tagged for sale to other regions on their planet. There were three floors to the building and stockyards to the rear, with a large well in the center courtyard separating the two areas. Dozens of women went about their business, some staring as the group passed.  
  
Ronon seemed to be taking it all in stride. Then again, he'd been a runner, so maybe he was used to this sort of staring. The looks, as usual, didn't even seem to register with Rodney. While Teyla… Teyla occasionally looked like she wanted to say 'HA!' in big, bold capital letters, the way Rodney would, but somehow scaled it back to a mere eyebrow lift, usually when the whispers erupted behind them as they passed.  
  
At no point did they encounter any men in the weight house.  
  
There was enough of interest, including glass and metal work, that Teyla decided to lay the groundwork for extended trade negotiations, and Pentau led them to a conference room near the courtyard. Wind blowing through the brush outside the window made John's teeth ache, while the rest of his body felt locked up from sitting in one position so long. He tried to relax, making his muscles tense and ease, keep himself prepared. They hadn't seen anything that made John's spidey-senses tingle, but then again, wasn't that usually the case?  
  
"Can't we leave yet?" Rodney muttered at John. "There's nothing we need here."  
  
"It's always good to meet the locals, Rodney. That's procedure."  
  
"It's a backwater hamlet with a dress code!" Rodney's emphatic whisper was far louder than it should have been, and both Teyla and Pentau glanced away from their discussions to look at him.  
  
John gave the women a polite wave. "He's just a little hungry." He nudged Rodney, letting him know that it was time to shut up.  
  
Crossing his arms over his chest, Rodney pressed his lips firmly together. "Fine," he muttered. "When my back seizes up because we've been sitting on a rock for hours, it'll be your fault."  
  
John glared at him; Rodney sighed, the puff of air moving the dark blue veil covering his lips. The veil seemed to make his eyes a more vibrant blue, and accentuated his lashes. John shifted slightly, and deliberately looked away. This trip was putting him on edge in a way he had never expected.  
  
Rodney was right, though. This meeting was never going to end.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rodney pull the laptop back into his lap; he'd been using the 'silent time' while they waited for the women to finish their preliminary negotiations to mess around with whatever project he had had on his computer. He typed furiously--John guessed "silence" didn't extend to the written word--while Ronon looked like he was managing to doze.  
  
Would it have been so wrong for someone to put a back on this bench? John arched upwards, hearing his spine crackle, and caught Rodney staring at him. He glanced around quickly; no one else was looking, so John ran a thumb around the edge of his veil, adjusting it a little, letting some cool air in. Damn, but these things were hot.  
  
Rodney's hand fell silent on the keyboard as he watched John fiddle with the veil, his brow furrowing. Yeah, he was doing a great job of hiding how much this planet and its traditional costumes disturbed him if even Rodney could see it. He tried to distract himself with other things--reports to write, work rosters and the like--but the only thing that held his attention was the memory of Rodney's hands.  
  
~~~  
  
Rodney's stomach growled loud and wet in the quiet room, pulling John out of the pleasant daydream he'd sunk into. Laying his hand over his stomach, Rodney turned a bright red, and John could head the guard snicker behind them. He reached for the power bar he usually stashed in the pocket of his tac vest out of habit, but no luck. The men had had to leave their packs and weapons in the anteroom, including their tac vests, even though Teyla still wore hers. At least Rodney and he had been allowed to wear the rest of their uniforms as long as they kept the jackets zipped up.  
  
He very carefully didn't look at Ronon, who had been asked to wear a loose-fitting, long-sleeved shirt along with his golden-brown veil so he was completely covered; apparently bare male skin was frowned upon during negotiations. He'd caught the veil up somehow in some silver things in his hair--John assumed they were stiletto handles or sharpened chopsticks or something--so his neck could actually be seen if you looked at it right. John wished he could show a little more skin as well, just to feel a breeze.  
  
Rodney looked at him hopefully, and John shook his head "no." "Sorry, buddy. Looks like you'll have to wait another couple of hours 'til they're done."  
  
Rodney glanced at Penteau and Teyla, then shook his head. "I'll starve to death first," he muttered. "Or die of dehydration. Can't they even manage a glass of water for their guests here?" He had inched his jacket open at the neck, where the veil covered him. John got an occasional flash of chest hair as he worked, whenever the veil pulled away. It was a little distracting.  
  
"Maybe water's rare here," John said, rearranging himself as much as possible without calling attention to himself.  
  
He caught Teyla staring at him, and John gave her a thumbs-up to let her know they were okay. He couldn't hear what she was saying to Pentau, given that he, Rodney, and Ronon were a good ten meters from the actual meeting table--  
  
One of the guards set a plate and a glass of water down in front of Rodney, startling him. "What's this?" He picked up the plate and sniffed it, before carefully setting it down like it was a grenade ready to explode.  
  
"Eat," the guard said, blonde hair spilling out from under her cap and onto her tunic, bright gold against faded red-brown. "They will be several more hours, I'm sure." She slid into the chair across from Rodney and smiled, rubbing her chin with her hand, her slight smile bringing the scar on her lips into sharp relief.  
  
"Inya!" a dark-haired guard called sharply. "Take care, and treat our guests respectfully."  
  
"I'm sure these gentlemen are bored, Honorable Watch. And this one's stomach growled," she nodded her head toward Rodney. "You would not want guests to starve in our presence, would you?" She looked back at Rodney and frowned. "The nartla is sweet. Eat, before it dries out."  
  
"Here," Ronon growled and popped one of the pieces of fruit under his veil, chewing so quickly that red juice dripped out. "Doesn't taste like lemons or oranges. More like… h'aquim?" He looked over at John.  
  
"Huh." John picked up a piece and tasted it. Sweet, but not overly so, with a rich, meaty texture sort of like portabella mushrooms. "It's like mango. Go ahead, Rodney. It's fine." He shifted slightly so his shoulder brushed Rodney's, trying to reassure him that it would be all right.  
  
Hesitantly, his eyes clearly communicating "oh, God, if there's something in this that I am allergic to, it is your duty to save me," Rodney picked up a piece of the yellow-green food and tucked it under the veil. John could see his mental countdown clock switched on, the one that would periodically run through everything his body was feeling over the next half hour, checking for breathing issues, hives, or a possible rash.  
  
John didn't admit that he'd developed one of those himself, one that mentally checked in on Rodney after ever weird thing they ate.  
  
"Where are you from?" Inya asked, leaning forward in her chair, twisting slightly so that her back was to John.  
  
"Here and there," John said calmly, sliding his arm onto the table to pick up one of the slices of fruit. Idly, he picked one up and took a bite; five minutes had passed. "We move around a lot."  
  
It was like he didn't even exist to her; she kept her conversation focused directly on Rodney. "You came through the Ring of the Ancestors. Surely you have a fixed home." She scratched at her lip, and her eyes glimmered. "Are there other free men there?" She slid her hand onto the table and brushed Rodney's with her own.  
  
Okay, that was exceeding creepy. Wasn't it? John frowned. Maybe she was just being friendly. It was kinda hard to tell.  
  
"Inya!" the Honorable Watch barked out. "You are not to disturb the traveler's husbands any longer."  
  
"He was hungry," Inya shot back defiantly, rubbing her thumb across the back of Rodney's hand as he pulled his hand away. "I merely--m"  
  
"As you seem to enjoy the atmosphere of the kitchen, you may return to help the cook tonight." She held up her hand stiffly as Inya took a breath. "I can make it kitchen duty for the next week, if you prefer."  
  
With a low growl, Inya stalked off into the hall, while the Honorable Watch poured them all fresh glasses of water. "She meant no disrespect," she said quietly, ruffling the dark bangs at her forehead with a heavy sigh. "A traveler bringing three husbands is an unheard of bounty of riches, and Inya is young. She was merely excited by the thought."  
  
There was a noise at the head table, as Pentau and Teyla stood, nodding formal agreement to each other.  
  
"Oh, thank God," Rodney said. "I was afraid we'd be stuck here for another five hours."  
  
"But you will!" The Honorable Watch looked a little shocked and set her pitcher of water down. "A summer storm is rising, and its firelight always strikes the Ancestral Ring. You will need to spend the night here, until the storm has passed." She dropped her voice to careful tones. "Besides, it is not good for men to go about here unescorted, and I can spare no one to guide you back tonight." She glanced briefly at Teyla, a clear "what was she thinking" look on her face. "She should have brought more guards with her, if she was bringing three of her men."  
  
"Hey, Teyla's pretty careful," John said. "And we can take care of ourselves."  
  
Her skeptical look needed no additional translation.  
  
Pentau and Teyla joined them at the men's table, and Pentau nodded at the Honorable Watch. "Tsan. Was there a problem earlier?"  
  
Tsan nodded formally and reported the incident to Teyla. "I sent her to work in the kitchens, if that is acceptable to you. I am sorry for the insult given to your husbands."  
  
"Don't sweat it," John said, but no one seemed to be listening to him.  
  
"Hello? I was the one she grabbed, remember?" Rodney waved his hand. "Okay, fine. No diplomatic incidents. I get it." He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
"There is no insult taken, Tsan," Teyla said. "Your decision is… acceptable to me."  
  
"You are kind, traveler." Tsan looked down at the floor, then back at Pentau and Teyla. "May I have permission to speak frankly?"  
  
"You always have my permission, Tsan. You know that." Pentau's voice was rich and deep, dry as sun-baked earth.  
  
"You have mine as well," Teyla added.  
  
"Inya was not used to the familiarity of your men, and I fear other incidents should they remain without guards tonight." She glanced shyly at Ronon, then looked steadily at Teyla, her words earnest. "Your husbands are beautiful, clean-limbed and well-fed. It is clear that your world is rich, and that would be a cause for envy among many of the women here. It would be better if you left them at home next time."  
  
Pentau shook her head. "We need to learn to deal with outsiders, Tsan. To adapt to new ways."  
  
"That is what you always say, councilor, but I still hear the grumbling on the streets from your reforms. Men are still a rare commodity." She glanced sharply at Teyla. "Do not your sister-wives feel their loss when you bring them trading?"  
  
Teyla shook her head. "No, they have other concerns back in the city." She folded her hands carefully in front of her. "My husbands are well able to care for themselves, Tsan. You need not concern yourself with their safety."  
  
"Lady--"  
  
"Tsan, cease." Pentau held up her hand for silence. "They will stay with my family this night, so you need not fear a mob uprising over their presence. Come." She laid her hand on Teyla's arm. "Walk with me. My house is not far."  
  
"We go the back way, through the far courtyard," Tsan said firmly.  
  
"As you wish, Honorable Watch," Pentau said. "Please send a runner and let my sister-wives know that we will be having guests this evening. Make sure you warn Larken as well."  
  
As they walked, John sidled up to Rodney. "You okay?"  
  
"I'm annoyed with her stupidity, and the fact that no one will hardly even look at--us. Other than that, I'm fine."  
  
"You sound normal, anyway." John flashed an "okay." Rodney looked startled, like he was expecting something different, and John realized that he hadn't made any smart-assed remarks since setting foot on this planet. His mind kept drifting off, into other places, other times, and he needed to get his head back in the game. Hopefully no one had noticed how distracted he'd become.  
  
"Hey, at least she didn't try to carry me off. I usually leave that kind of fun to you."  
  
"Carrying off fun? Or getting carried off?" John brushed his hand against Rodney's back, letting it linger there. He grounded himself in the feel of Rodney's body, in the heat coming off of his back, in the sound of his voice and the smell of his sweat. He tried to not think about how ridiculous he looked, as he gently pushed Rodney ahead of him. "Yeah, you're good," he said brightly, leaving his hand on Rodney's back.  
  
~~~  
  
Veil removed and hunger satisfied, John leaned back in his chair, feeling a bit better than he had. They'd been given back their equipment, and Pentau had made a point of including them all in her conversation, while two of her sister-wives served them a cold meal. Tsan stayed near the door to the dining room the whole time, but John caught her sneaking bits off the serving plates more than once. She finally gave up on formality and smiled at him in a "what can you do?" fashion, custard tart clutched in one hand as the plate passed by.  
  
Setting her cup down on the table, Pentau sighed softly as she turned to Teyla. "Amazing. Bring some of your sister-wives with you, your Dr. Weir, your foster sisters when you come back. As the poets say, too many men make the naluck nervous."  
  
"Yes, yes," muttered Rodney. "And children are more precious than carbuncles."  
  
"Ah! A scholar as first husband. It is a wise choice." An elderly man walked into the room carrying a platter of fruit and set it down on the table before them, before sitting down at Pentau's side.  
  
"Don't brag." She curled her hand over his and smiled at him, almost coy. "Scholars are reputed to be gentle, and I've found that to be true." She nodded at Rodney. "What of your scholar? Is he gentle as well?"  
  
"He is…." Teyla took a deep breath and glanced at Rodney. "He is very dedicated to his work."  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?" Rodney asked John, who rolled his eyes in response.  
  
"So there is some fire in him, eh?" She wrinkled her nose up in what John thought was a smile, and her voice dropped conspiratorially. "Hidden passions." She winked, which was only mildly disturbing, and patted her partner's hand. "Larken was my eldest sister's choice. I wanted someone younger, a strong-backed farmer, more like your third husband there." She circled her finger at Ronon. "Someone who would make me shake just from being near him." She turned back to the group. "It took Larken some time to win me, but now he is my favorite."  
  
Larken fluttered his hand in front of his face, as if it were an old discussion. "Her blood blinded her."  
  
"How many husbands do you have?" Teyla asked.  
  
"Two husbands, seven sister-wives, and two foster cousins." She smiled broadly. "Not to mention the children."  
  
"They keep me very busy," Larken said, leaning back expansively. "I barely have time for managing the accounts and terrorizing the servants."  
  
"Larken!" Pentau said, shaking her head. "You must forgive him for speaking so boldly."  
  
"I do not mind," Teyla said.  
  
"That is well." Pentau carefully folded her hands in front of her, hesitated, then spoke directly at Teyla. "If you speak with the other councilors, please refrain from telling them anything that Larken has mentioned. My family has traded with outsiders for years, and our ways are considered… very liberal."  
  
Larken pushed back his chair and gestured at Rodney, John, and Ronon to rise. "The women will be up late discussing business. Perhaps you would wish to see your rooms?" He bowed slightly at Teyla. "We mean you no discourtesy, Teyla Emmagan, but the guest house is not provisioned for a family such as yours. There are rooms for several sister-wives and traveling companions, but we have no bed large enough--" He glanced quickly at Ronon. "--to accommodate all of your men."  
  
"Even the largest one will fit only three, two sister-wives and a companion." Pentau looked very apologetic.  
  
"Rodney and I can share," John said abruptly, without even looking at Rodney. His stomach churned, and his heart pounded. He had no idea what was going on with him, but at least with Rodney near him, he was better able to focus.  
  
"Hey!" Rodney interjected. "Don't I get a say?"  
  
John lifted his eyebrows significantly, trying to put some serious intent behind the look.  
  
"Okay, yes. We'll share a bed here," Rodney agreed, biting at his lip.  
  
"Will that suit you?" Penatu asked Teyla.  
  
"Yes," Teyla nodded. "We have shared accommodations on many different worlds, and most guest houses require us to have more than one room."  
  
"Excellent!" Larken clapped his hand together eagerly, and squeezed John's shoulder. "Your room will be next to that of your wife and husband. You will share a bath with them, so it will not be far if you need her."  
  
"I'll stay," Ronon said, looking at Teyla and glancing at John. They had a standing agreement among the team not to split into groups of less than two off-planet. Not since the last kidnapping attempt, anyway.  
  
"Well, ah--" Larken glanced at Penatu, who nodded.  
  
"He may stay."  
  
Veiling himself, Larken turned to Rodney and John. "Please, prepare yourselves. It is but a short walk, but during the festival…" He sighed heavily. "Our family is good and kind, fair traders, you understand. But much of our world is not like that, treating men as possessions. There have been three serious incidents reported recently, so you must stay close and remain veiled as we walk through the crowds. There will be guards with us, but I cannot guarantee your safety if you stray from the group."  
  
Fuck. John really didn't want to go out there with the damned veil on again. He felt too weird with it on, like he was… well, weird. "We'll take that under advisement." John smiled, trying to keep it all nice and loose, but something in his tone of voice must have given him away.  
  
Rodney jerked his head around to stare at John, and this time John just couldn't get it together. He could feel the beads of sweat standing out on his forehead, more than the heat allowed for, and he was pretty sure Rodney could tell that the crinkles around his eyes were stress-related, not lines from easy laughter. He leaned against the chair, throwing his arm around the back of it, trying to show that he didn't really care. Make it Casual. Easy. Open.  
  
Rodney didn't buy it. John tried to relax, open his hands instead of gripping the wood too tight, but it didn't matter. He could see Rodney add up everything he saw and multiply it by what he called the John Sheppard factor just fine. John closed his eyes and took a deep breath; he had to trust Rodney with this at some point. He had to let Rodney see something of himself.  
  
He opened his eyes and caught Rodney's gaze, giving a small nod. Yeah, it really does bug me.  
  
Instantly, Rodney turned to Larken. "I'm, uh, didn't really like being stared at," Rodney declared, sliding his hand over John's; God, the touch of his hand felt great. "Is there some back way we can go, so we don't have to wear the, ah, veils?"  
  
"Hmmm." Larken glanced at their clasped hands, pursed his lips, and nodded. "There is a back route, though the stables and past the dung heap. It is… not pleasant at the moment, and a much longer walk."  
  
"That's fine. I'll hold my nose." Rodney was turning red, but he didn't let go of John's hand. His looked at John, smiling slightly, and John tried to smile back. He felt like he'd run a couple of miles, his heart pounding, hand sweating as he left his palm in Rodney's. No one seemed to care that they were holding hands--maybe on this planet, they expected it--so maybe it was okay.  
  
Rodney seemed to get that. He rubbed his thumb across the back of John's hand, as if to say: It is safe here. It's going to be okay.  
  
John really wanted to believe it. A tremor ran through his hand as he forced himself not to panic, as he opened up and allowed himself to curl his hand around, thread their fingers together. John cleared his throat and gave Rodney's hand a small squeeze before pulling it away, a pledge rather than a panicked reaction.  
  
Maybe for once the telepathy thing worked. To John's eye, Rodney looked more relaxed as he turned to Larken. "Yeah, I really would love to see our room."  
  
~~~  
  
The trip past the dung heap was every bit as noxious as Larken had implied, but only two women spotted them during the trek, and John carried the weight of their gaze in the tension along his back for the rest of the trip. He wasn't able to shut it out and he wasn't able to stop his irritation from showing. It was as if, now that he had let Rodney see that small piece of him, he wasn't able to hide it from anyone again.  
  
Rodney seemed to realize it, though, putting himself between John and Larken, John and the guards. Still, the minute the door closed behind him, John thought his legs were going to give out. He sagged against the wall while Rodney looked the room over, picking up and examining some of the knick-knacks: figurines of dog-like things, a pitcher of water, a stack of thick blue towels for the bath.  
  
"So, you mind telling me what you were freaked about?" Rodney set his pack down on the floor near the bed, not looking at him.  
  
"Yes," John said, and mentally kicked himself. He wasn't sure that this "letting other people in" thing was ever going to be one of his strengths.  
  
Rodney nodded. "I wouldn't want--"  
  
"No. I mean no." John rubbed his hands on his thighs, and Rodney turned to him, surprise clear on his face. John scratched his bicep. "I'm not too good at this stuff."  
  
"That's fine." Rodney flashed him a tight smile. "Neither am I."  
  
Pacing over to the bed, John sat down, but he couldn't stay there for long; he felt trapped sitting in one place for too long. "This place reminds me of Afghanistan."  
  
"Oh," Rodney said quietly.  
  
"But not in a bad way. It's just." John threaded his hands in his hair and kicked his pack closer to the wall. "We got up to some crazy shit sometimes. And, uh." Okay, they'd never exactly talked about John's history with men or anything, and Rodney was clear about the whole "don't ask, don't tell" thing, but this went even farther than that. "I like sucking cock."  
  
"What, that's news? You want to do it whenever we get together." Rodney was suddenly there, right by John's side, pressing him back into the wall with one hand. He picked up John's pack and threw it so it landed in the middle of the floor, his eyes locked on John's. "You're just lucky I like having my cock sucked."  
  
"I kinda noticed." John couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face as he wrapped his hands around Rodney's wrists. "You always look like you're enjoying it." His smile faded as he stared at Rodney's lips. "The guy I was usually with liked me to wear a veil while I did it."  
  
"Fuck." The word came out long and low, a deep growl of excitement. Rodney's eyes fluttered, pupils dilating large enough to just leave a thin ring of blue.  
  
"I liked it." John pressed his lips against Rodney's neck, nuzzling under his chin. "You gonna let me suck you like that?"  
  
"You're going to kill me." Rodney breathed in tightly controlled gasps, as if he were going to come any second. "You really are." His expression was open--he was incredibly turned on, his cock hard against John's thigh.  
  
"Yeah." John let go of Rodney's wrists, letting his hand brush over Rodney's in passing. God, Rodney's hands. "You think we should do that now?"  
  
"You have no idea what I'm thinking." Rodney threaded his leg between John's and pressed him hard. His strength undid the tight knots in John's shoulders, where he'd felt the weight of strangers gazes on him all day; his chest expanded in a sudden, deep breath that felt great. Hard muscles dug into his own, and John felt the bulge dig into his thigh. "Should I tell you?"  
  
Yes, more, please. John hissed as Rodney nipped as his neck. "Uhm, maybe?"  
  
"Good answer." Rodney tugged at the hem of John's shirt, pulling it off over his head. He fisted his hands around John's dog tags and tugged them. "I'm thinking I want to fuck you."  
  
John couldn't help himself. His head fell back and he squeezed his eyes shut. "Yes. Fuck, yes." He felt a shudder run up and down his spine at the way he imagined Rodney had to be looking at him, his gaze burning away the lingering memory of the stares John had been subject to that day. Rodney was the one that mattered, not these strangers, the women of this planet. Rodney. Fingertips brushed John's nipples lightly and his eyes flew open, catching Rodney's gaze. "Sounds like a great plan to me."  
  
Rodney stepped back, letting air in between the two of them before rubbing John's cock through his pants. John made a noise--part want, part relief; Rodney squeezed harder, and John moaned again. It would be hard, fast, and dirty tonight, which suited John just fine.  
  
"God, I can't believe how hot you are." Rodney dug around in his pack for a moment, pulling out the tin of sunscreen and tossing it on the bed; John couldn't believe how erotic just the sight of it was, how hard it made him to know what they would be doing with it.  
  
Rodney caught him staring, and smiled wickedly. "Does that to me, too." He stalked back over to where his clever hands could work the buttons on John's fly, pressing the fabric open before he sank to his knees. He mouthed the fabric of John's boxers, warm breath and heat making John slide his hands into Rodney's hair. Rodney lipped at his cock, and John felt himself harden further.  
  
"Suck me?" he asked quietly, heart pounding.  
  
"With or without the veil?"  
  
John felt like an electrical charge surged through his body, and for a moment, he couldn't speak. Wasn't sure he could even breathe. He finally managed to squeeze a quiet "with" through the lump in his throat.  
  
Rodney rolled his head so he could look up at John, his eyes wide and dark with want. He pressed a kiss against John's cock and stood, pulling off his own shirt. "Strip and get on the bed."  
  
Heart pounding, John pushed his pants and boxers down to his thighs, the rub of the damp fabric exciting him further. Maybe it was a little weird, this thing that he had with Rodney, but damn, it felt good. He didn't have to work at being charming and polite. Whatever he did, however he was, Rodney would adapt.  
  
Rodney's gaze flicked down John's naked body, his hunger apparent. Maybe adapt was the wrong term. "That veil was driving me crazy, too."  
  
"Yeah, mine was a little itchy."  
  
Rodney shook his head. "It wasn't that. It was how you looked in it." He glanced down at the floor, then scooped up the veil and dangled it over John's head. "But whatever works, right?"  
  
For a moment, John held his breath, afraid he was going to come too fast. Maybe the same thought flashed through Rodney's mind as he ran the fabric through one hand before using it to stroke gently over John's chest.  
  
The sensual feel of it made John arch up into the caress; Rodney ran his hand over John's forehead, pushing his hair out of the way, and let his fingers stroke down John's face. He licked his lips as he stared at John, then leaned in, running his tongue lightly over John's mouth. "After I come, I'll suck you with this on."  
  
Then Rodney shoved him, pushing John down on his back. He fumbled the lid off the jar, greasing up his fingers and then playing with John's ass. "You're mine," he said, slipping a finger inside, making John gasp. While he fucked John with his fingers, he bit right above John's nipple, sucking and worrying the flesh, nipping and licking it, leaving what John knew would be a big, wet bruise. John figured he was okay with that, a part of him reveling in what the mark would mean, even though no one could see.  
  
Pushing John's legs up to his chest, Rodney knelt between his thighs. "Ready?"  
  
And just that fast, he was. "Screw the questions, Rodney. Just--Fuck!"  
  
That was a perfectly good invitation, it seemed, as Rodney slid thickly into him, remaking him. The weird sensation he'd had was back again, but this time, it was Rodney looking at him and making him feel that way; this time, it felt really good.  
  
John could see Rodney's pulse beating on his forehead, and felt Rodney's cock jump. "You're always so tight."  
  
John squeezed hard, just to listen to Rodney gasp. But his gasps didn't drown out the sudden flashes of light and sound of a hard pounding rain. It also didn't drown out the out the clang of alarm bells from the courtyard that followed soon after.  
  
"Shit," Rodney yelled, pulling out of John and rolling over, scrambling for his clothing. "Shit, shit, shit." He glared at John. "This is why we swore never to do this anywhere but Atlantis."  
  
"I know, I fucking know!" John pounded his head against the pillow before rolling over and pulling on his own clothes. His body pounded with adrenaline, both from the sex and from the attack. The hallway was filled with the sound of people running, and then Teyla was pounding on their door.  
  
"Dr. McKay! Colonel Sheppard. The compound is under attack."  
  
"Figured that!" John yelled as he grabbed his weapon and Rodney threw open the door; Teyla and Ronon stood waiting in their gear, mindless of the people scurrying around them. "Where's Pentau?"  
  
"She was headed for the courtyard, along with most of her guards."  
  
"Then that's where we'll head. Standard formation. Ronon, you take our six."  
  
Ronon nodded, and the four of them formed a tight knot and headed for the worst of the shouting.  
  
~~~  
  
By the time they arrived there was a stand-off in the courtyard, with Pentau on the dais around the well, directing her people. John thought maybe fifty women were gathered, all holding weapons of some sort, from the guard's guns to the cook's meat cleaver to the stablehand's pitchfork. Facing them were about half that number of women in a hodge-podge of gear, standing in shadow at the flickering edges of the courtyard light.  
  
"Pentau," Teyla called as they got close. "How may we assist you?" Rain pelted around them, making it difficult to see.  
  
Glancing at them, Pentau shuddered. "Get the men inside," she ground out. "This is no place for them."  
  
John tilted his head slightly and looked at her, then glanced at Ronon, Telya, and Rodney; a part of him was aching to show exactly what they could do. Ronon was vibrating with the same need from what John could see, and Rodney looked ready too; they weren't ready to be hustled away with the rest of the menfolk just yet. Teyla could feel it too, her eyes lighting with the spark of battle. They were a team, and John could trust every one of them. "We'll do all right," he said as they formed up around Teyla, weapons ready.  
  
Ronon shot him a quick smile, the one that said 'just tell me when.'  
  
"We know the travelers are there!" One of the women surged into the light while the rest of the group closed ranks behind her. She was a tall woman, battle-scarred, and clearly the leader of the group. "What need has she for three husbands? Give us two, and we will leave you in peace."  
  
"They are under my protection, Halim. Go home and sleep off festival night." Pentau's robes fluttered around her as a warm night breeze swept through the courtyard. "You do not wish to make me your enemy."  
  
"Three husbands!" Halim stepped forward, and John could see her tighten her fist on her weapon. "If she wishes to trade, tell her she must share." Her mouth twisted in a lascivious smile. "She can even stay if she wants. She can watch them being ridden."  
  
"I would not enjoy that," Teyla said, her voice cold and strong and angry. "And I do not believe they wish to go with you."  
  
"I don't," Rodney muttered, his body braced in a classic shooting pose. "Just for the record."  
  
"Who cares what men want?" The group with Halim laughed at the comment. Yeah, real winners, all of 'em. "Keep the soft one, then, and give us the other two." Her eyes skimmed over the men, coming to rest on John, her gaze stripping him. "That one looks ready to serve."  
  
That fluttery feeling that John had earlier returned as she measured him, but this time, John brushed it off. What they thought didn't matter; they couldn't see inside him and know what he was thinking, feeling, wanting. His body still sang with a sex high, but what he craved right now wasn't what these women were demanding. He didn't want to be the fuck of the day, he'd already done that enough in his life, thanks. He wanted something more.  
  
No, not something, someone. Someone who accepted him for who he was, bumps, bruises and kinks included, who could take whatever John came up with in stride. It felt like a sudden revelation, even though it really shouldn't have: he wanted Rodney.  
  
"I don't want to go," John said, taking aim at the ground right next to Halim's feet, his equilibrium restored. The veils didn't matter and Rodney did--though the veil was kinda hot. "What about you, Ronon?"  
  
"Nope." Ronon flicked his wrist and set his pulse-pistol spinning charging it as he did so. "Don't like their attitude either."  
  
"Rodney?"  
  
"Listen, if I wanted to be some woman's chattel, I can think of someone far more deserving than some drunkard goat-herder from a backwater planet. Plus the dress code here sucks."  
  
John felt his cock tighten, and he slanted a glance at Rodney, who was looking at him with an 'oh, God, I can't believe I just said that' look. "I dunno. I thought the dress code had a few positives."  
  
His head was tilted at just the right angle to catch a movement in the shadows off to their right; John fired a warning shot, and heard the sound of Ronon's weapon discharging. One woman fell, and Pentau's women flooded into the area, dragging two more into the light.  
  
"There," Rodney said, pointing at another set of moving shadows.  
  
"And there," Teyla said, bringing her weapon into firing position, but Ronon hit them first.  
  
"Leave now, before my women decide that they need to be forceful." Pentau said calmly as Tsan made the prisoners kneel by the well: Ten women all told, four of them unconscious from Ronon's stunner.  
  
"These ones only understand force." With a nod of approval, Tsan stepped in next to John, clapping him on the arm. A murmur of shock went through the crowd; John guessed the whole "hail comrade, well done" thing wasn't frequently done. "Go now. And take your followers with you."  
  
Halim's eyes swept disdainfully over Tsan and the guards behind her. John watched her eyes narrow and her mouth turn grim as she realized the odds were against her. "I will bring this to Council," she said, and spat upon the ground. Even John knew it was an idle threat.  
  
"Do so," Penatu said, "and I will tell them of how you attempted assault on festival night." She looked calm and peaceful, powerful in the cloudy moonlight, whereas everyone else just looked damp.  
  
Halim and her women slunk back away, tails between their legs; Pentau shook her head at the sight. She snapped her fingers at Tsan, who bowed and took charge of the prisoners; presumably they would be dealt with in the morning.  
  
She turned to look at Teyla, and John could see her weariness now, around her eyes and in the creases on her forehead. "I am afraid you must leave tomorrow," she said, plucking at her damp dress. "I do not think they will try anything further tonight." She hesitated a second, then looked directly at Rodney, John, and Ronon. "Thank you."  
  
"No sweat," John said and smiled, his hand resting on Rodney's back.  
  
~~~  
  
The four of them crowded into Teyla's room, pulling the mattress from the other bedroom and sleeping fitfully in shifts. At least their clothes were dry by the time Larken called them to breakfast in the morning, and by non-verbal agreement, they ignored the puzzled stares of the women that waited on them. Tsan and Pentau joined them at the table, and the whole group headed to the gate just after dawn. The night's storm seemed to have vanished; all that was left were a few standing pools on the roadway.  
  
"I hope that Halim's behavior does not prevent you from trading with us," Pentau said, and gestured at her assistant, who ran for one of the buildings. "I have asked for several samples to be given to you, so that you may decide what you would like to bargain for in the future."  
  
The gate opened, the IDC sent, and the MALP rumbled back through, then Rodney looked over at her. "Any of the fabric that the veils were made from?" Teyla arched her eyebrow at him. "What? It was soft, and…I have delicate skin." He glanced at John as he spoke, and John's stomach twisted into a small, delicious knot.  
  
Pentau nodded. "Yes, there are several bolts for you to examine, along with some of our staple grain, and fruit, and some of the fruit jellies we make."  
  
The girl struggled under the weight of the package, and Ronon took it from her, easily hefting it over his shoulder before joining John, Rodney, and Teyla at the gate.  
  
"Are we good?" John asked, glancing at the other three. They each nodded in turn, and with that, they all stepped through the gate.  
  
Usually, John didn't feel much of anything as he crossed the event horizon, but he'd swear something heavy lifted from him this time as he stepped out into Atlantis. He looked over at Rodney as they moved towards the stairs, only to see Rodney looking back at him. For a minute he thought he felt the weight of the Helan sun again, the brush of the veil against his face, and he shivered. Rodney smiled, nodding at the box of fabric Ronon carried, and John shivered again at the promise it contained.  



End file.
